


I am L'manburg

by CorvinaFarrin



Series: 'What if' dsmp shorts [4]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Blood, Dream Smp, Friends keep dying, Hurt, I've created new characters pog, L'manburg is a human..., Nations, One villian, Sad, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:27:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29694321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorvinaFarrin/pseuds/CorvinaFarrin
Summary: What if every nation that ever existed on the smp was a human- a ghost caught in the realm between reality and theirs where they can only sit and watch? What if L'manburg had feelings and Pogtopia was a person....
Relationships: L'manburg & Dream SMP, L'manburg & Pogtopia, L'manburg&Logstedshire
Series: 'What if' dsmp shorts [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2181084
Kudos: 2





	I am L'manburg

**Author's Note:**

> I like the idea of nations being people that suffered. I haven't seen this idea so let's give it a try ;)

I was young. They would call me a child if they saw me- my wild blue eyes dancing under the morning sunlight, my limbs as nimble as the deer in the forest. I had friends- the girls who would braid my short hair into several plaits and the boys would teach me to fight. We’d wrestle and I’d tackle back because this is what fun was. I was a ghost to the people that surrounded me., but I accepted this with ease. This was how we were born- beings living between reality and….something I never cared to read about. I had friends who lived in this same realm as me, and this was all that mattered.I smiled at the brunet who walked right through me. If he saw me, he would call me a child.

The brunet left one day- armed with his friends behind him. They were being punished for something they’d done wrong. I knew this because I heard their screams far away. It pierced my ears like needles, making my ears bleed. I cried until the moon rested behind the hills. Someone reached for me. I heard them but their footsteps were unfamiliar. They were heavy but were trying to be silent in the darkness of the night and when I raised my head I met the eyes of the unknown. He wore a green unlike the grass beneath me. He wore a mask whiter than starlight. He was thinking about me-I could feel it. It scared me as he did nothing to soothe my headache or the tears from my now dull eyes. I didn’t like that I was in his thoughts. His presence scared me-a nightmare. He stared, red dripping from his fingertips.  
He left. 

Tommy appeared the next day- I learnt his name by the others that shouted it. He smiled at me from a distance, almost proudly. He however, seemed lost. I don’t know what happened to him yesterday but the lightness to his feet was forgotten and he developed a habit of rubbing his shoulder. When he sat at his bench, gazing at the sunset I knew he was thinking about me because he stared directly into my eyes. Our irises were identical, though his used to be brighter. I never understood who would dim the fire he used to bear in them.

I became the centre of attention. I grew taller in the years they looked after me. The brunet’s smile glistened like mine in the day. It ceased to fade in the night and they protected me. I was given a suit of blue and red, which matched perfectly with my black hair. My favourite gift was the blanket he enveloped me in once- walls they called it. Yellow and black like those of a bee- chunky and soft. Months passed and they disappeared yet again. That day I made another friend.

“Have you seen them?”

The frail boy frowned and wrapped himself in his cloak. “Who?”

I described the man to him. “Do you mean Wilbur?”

Wilbur. The name made sense. “Yes. Where is he?”

The boy smiled sadly. “They’re with me”

I turned to him fully. “And who are you?”

He raised his hand. I reached out to shake it and almost fell back at how cold it was. “I’m Pogtopia” 

I laughed. It sounded like a name Tommy would give. We fell into silence though I wanted to ask more questions. It unintentionally left my mouth. As I spoke, I felt myself grow weaker. Something tightened painfully around my wrists and cuffs appeared, penetrating my skin mercilessly. Blood dripped down my arms.

“What is this?” I asked the boy.

He shrugged. “They want you as a slave” he pointed to the distance to a man with horns. His slitted eyes watched me intently. 

“They want to rename you to make you work for them.” The blanket around my waist fell and split when it hit the ground. The yellows and blacks fell like snowflakes to the ground. I raised my head to a younger brunet behind me-the boy who had done it.

“I didn’t know they could touch me.” I whispered. “Can they see me too?”

Pogtopia shook his head and shivered, thought there was no breeze. “They can’t see us. They never will but they can give and take from us.” He looked at me- his eyes reflecting not stars, but lanterns. Dull lights in a pool of brown.

“This is what we were born to do. To watch until we reach our fate.”

I rested my chin on my palm but it hurt. “That sounds boring.”

***

I awoke in a prison. Pogtopia watched me from beyond the bars. I felt weak and when I rubbed my eyes, I felt bruises.

“Do you remember who you are?” The question was abrupt and I barely processed it.

“What?” I jumped at the sound of my voice. It was hoarse, as if I had been shouting.

“Do you remember who you are?” he asked again. My head went blank. The letter L danced on my tongue but it didn’t feel right. It felt forbidden. 

“Manburg” he called me. “They renamed you Manburg.” I craned my head back to view the chains connected to my neck. I closed my eyes again-too tired to protest. They either give or take.This was taking and it felt like it was my freedom.

I woke up to a clatter. It reminded me I was still in the cell, so I kept my eyes closed. Only when someone shook me, did I shout. My tongue stopped when I saw him.

“Remember me?” The man clad in green smirked. I stared, his presence sparking a childhood memory. 

“How do you see me?”

Pogtopia laughed in his corner. I forgot he was still there. The boy picked his nails with a knife and tipped his head forward. 

“He isn’t Dream.”

Oh. “Meet Dream Smp”

I frowned. “Sounds the same.” The masked man sat beside me.

“Because it is the same.” He sounded older than me. Pogtopia was younger than me- probably 10 yet he had a 16 year old rebelliousness to him. I was 18 but Dream Smp sounded at least two years older.

“Do you want to get out?” he asked. I remembered his uncaring approach to me when I was young and crying in the darkness. I scoffed.

“I take what is given to me.”

“Hmph” he tapped his gloved fingers to his knees. “You’re quieter than I thought you’d be.”

I frowned. “What is that supposed to mean?” He shrugged. The movement annoyed me. 

“I just thought you’d be upset at the person that put you in here.” I sighed. I could be but that wouldn’t get me out.

“I take what is given to me.”

“Ahh but are you being given something or is something being taken away?”

Pogtopia scoffed. “Get outta here man. I thought you wanted to apologise, not manipulate him.” 

Dream Smp wheezed and I folded my arms. “Apologise for what?”

The man got up, kicking a tray closer to me. It had a few slices of bread and a water bottle. 

“For putting you in here, of course.”

***

Pogtopia led me out of prison the next day. Sunlight hit me hard, blurring my vision. We both smiled at each other, because it had been so long since we were able to walk out. Pogtopia never left me, and I appreciated it. I felt like I owed it to him. 

There were remnants of a celebration across the land. Broken platforms and decorations littered the area but it still felt better than the cell. It was warm. 

Before we could take a step toward the cheering crowds in the distance, an explosion sent us forward. I gripped my ears, though the damage was already done. I looked up and saw the brunet standing over everyone in the hollow of a hill. I heard Tommy scream. 

I screamed. 

No one heard me.

This was a nightmare. It had to be. None of this could be real- Wilbur couldn't have...There was a wound in my side but it didn’t match the dead gaze in Pogtopia’s eyes. It didn’t compare to the brunet’s-no Wilbur’s deceased body in the arms of a stranger. They called him Phil. I called him a murderer. This wasn’t Pogtopia’s fate. It shouldn’t have been.

Tubbo found me. I was given a shovel to bury my friend. Badlands and El rapids came to assist me. They claimed to be friends and promised to help so I let them. Besides, I had nothing to lose. Tubbo whispered kind words to his friends in his realm and it eased my pain. El rapids, a joyous man, often comforted me and Badlands cured my wounds. The scars, however, never left. Various people-ghosts like me-came once or twice to the burial site but I knew it was because they themselves lost what they could have gained from Pogtopia. They wanted the boy’s help and whatever the authority the kid had but he was now gone. Manifold Land visited but I never saw him again. Rutabagville, a ruthless person, walked past the gravestone without shedding a tear but I? I missed my friend. I missed Wilbur.

I told this to Dream Smp but he only laughed, mumbling something about how it was ‘never meant to be’.

***

Months passed and I was able to lie in fields of grass again. My bold blue suit was gone. It had been stripped from me when I was in prison, but I now clothed myself in a suit. It gave me a look of responsibility-one that I didn’t want. I was offered a thin brown jacket, one that reminded me of Wilbur and Pogtopia. I kept it tied to my waist in replacement of the blazer.

“Hey” A girl with crème coloured hair peeked over me as I lay down. She blocked the sun with an equally bright smile.

“Hi” I smiled.

“Nice day, right?” I noticed blue streaks in her hair as she spoke. Her eyes were oak brown and seemed to sparkle.

“Yeah. Would you like to watch the sky?”

She continued staring at my features. “You’re pretty handsome.” she commented. 

A dark blush spread across my cheeks. “Thank you?” 

She giggled and plopped herself beside me, twirling a blue flower in her fingers. 

“I’m Logstedshire. You can call me Shire.” She was surprisingly enthusiastic. 

I opened my mouth to introduce myself but Tubbo walked through us, eyes focused ahead. Shire’s head followed him.

“Tommy misses him”

I pursed my lips. It had been a while since I thought about Tommy. The golden haired boy lingered at the back of my mind. 

“Where is Tommy?” She looked at me, scanning me up and down again. 

“On holiday. Far away from the chaos.” I nodded. It had been rough. Everyone needed a break sometimes, him especially.

She visited everyday, making my day more productive than most. We laughed at the lakes and fished often. We kept our valuable in barrels that we buried underground. We promised each other we would unearth it in 2 years, on a day that was as peaceful as those. One day however, she stopped coming. After a week I started to worry until I saw her small figure from a distance. She limped and when I noticed the bruises along her neck, I ran. 

Setting my shovel down, I fell to my knees. Her fate was the same as Pogtopia’s. 

I cried for what felt like eternity, until I raised my head to a new morning.

I realized who was doing it.

***

“Dream!” 

The man didn’t turn around fully until I shouted.

“DREAM”

When he turned, I grabbed his neck and shoved him against the nearest wall. He still managed to laugh.

“L, how you doing?” he brushed the back of his finger down my cheek. For the first time in my life, I snarled.

“Fine Dream. Would ask the same but I don’t care.” 

He smirked. “There he is.” I stopped. 

“What?”

“There’s the Tommy in you. When Wilbur was alive you were calmer and now that he’s gone you’re more like-”

“SHUT IT” 

Dream reluctantly raised his hands.

“You killed them. You killed Shire and Pogtopia. You used them didn’t you?” Dream shrugged. I tightened my grip.

“Why do you keep doing it? What do you get from it?” Dream picked my fingers off his neck and I swallowed. He leaned forward.

“It’s fun.”

I wanted to rip the grin off his face. “No. It isn’t” he gripped my chin and brought it forward so that he was practically breathing on me. "How would you know? You've never had any fun."

"Even if I wanted to. I couldn't because you keep killing my friends." I could sense he was about to laugh again, so I took the opportunity. I flipped the mask off his face and threw it behind me. Dream Smp stood wide eyed - green eyes darkening with hatred. 

"How.Dare.You." He stepped back, raising his hand in a quick motion to bring it down on my cheek. I prepared to duck but someone caught his wrist. A woman clothed in white robes stood in front of me. She flung his hand down. 

"Don't touch him." her voice was quiet but threatening. 

Dream growled. "I thought you hated him."

The woman turned back to me and her white-blue eyes caught me off guard. "I don't hate anyone for now." She faced Dream Smp again. "Don't make me"

***

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to write more but it depends in whether you guys liked it or not...so if you liked it and would like me to write another chapter, I will. I basically just stopped at the point before the final doomsday war thingy. Uh, yeah, hoped you liked it tho


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